


Scars Don't Heal

by the_wrote



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Awkward Crush, F/M, Gun Violence, Humor, Minor Angst, Personal Canon, Two Shot, deleted scene at end, loyalty mission spoilers, romance spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-13 06:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10507932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wrote/pseuds/the_wrote
Summary: Sara Ryder, having found an unknown burden of responsibility thrust upon her shoulders, has done what she can to make her crew feel comfortable and at ease, even in the face of her inexperience. The crew of the Tempest has come to be a family, closer to her than even her blood relations. Her feelings for one crew member is shallow and, as far as she's concerned, a crush that won't lead to anything. Confronted with the thought of harm coming to Jaal, however, forces Ryder to reclassify what she's feeling.





	1. Chapter 1

From the amount of sporadic and flighty banter Peebee was making, her volume a touch too high for the close quarters of the shuttle, Ryder knew that she was trying to cover up how awkward Ryder’s sour mood was making everyone feel. Maybe she could have saved face if she had made a self deprecating joke, or done a better job at easing everyone’s tensions as they had walked away from the Forge. But now it was too late; she had been sitting in the corner, her death mask keeping her features slack and non-perturbed even as her palms collected sweat, for too long to make a come back. It was best to wallow in her silence until they got back to the Tempest. 

Then, maybe, with enough time, the three of them would be able to forget the noise she had made when Akksul had pointed his gun and pulled the trigger. There had only been a moment for her to react after the crackle of energy shot from the barrel, and in that moment she thought Jaal was dead, her own gun harnessed uselessly against her back. Her knees had turned to jelly and she had swayed, yelping in something close to agony and disbelief. 

She pulled at her hair, adjusting it around her ears which she knew were burning scarlet. 

When the shuttle finally landed, Ryder made sure she was the first off. She jumped the final few feet to the ground, in too much of a hurry to wait for the shuttle to stop rocking on its landing legs. 

“We’re back!” Peebee exclaimed dramatically, throwing her arms wide with her face to the sky. She looked over at the two angara pacing in the shadows and beamed brightly, motioning them over with two hands. “Is this your family, Jaal?” she guessed, turning to her crew mate. 

Jaal, followed by his orange clad brother and sister, ignored Peebee. He scanned the landing pad looking for Ryder, knowing she couldn’t have made it far. When he finally saw her, striding towards the walkway with her shoulders high and fists clenched tightly, he called after her, “Ryder, do you have some time?” 

Ryder quickly rearranged her death mask, which had wilted in the moments she had had alone, and turned to face Jaal. “I was just heading back to the Tempest,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Yeah, sure, sure. Yeah.” She cursed herself for sounding like an idiot and reminded herself that it would be best if she didn’t open her mouth. Silence was golden, silence was her friend. As an afterthought, she forced herself to smile, her lips pulled so tight her cheeks threatened to pop.

Jaal offered a real smile in return, unbothered by her ramblings or strange display of emotion, and made a small, almost purr like sound in the back of his throat. “Let’s give them a minute,” he said with a meek nod to his family. He motioned to the railings that overlooked the Havarl wilds, asking with his body if not with his words if she would follow.

Without much of a choice, besides bolting and bricking herself into a tomb of embarrassment (which would be her final resting place, at this rate), she nodded in assent, forcing her pace to be slow. She caught Peebee’s obvious stare and tried not to scowl when she winked over at them, mouthing something that looked like _go get ‘im._

She waited for Jaal to speak first, preferring to hunch over the railings, staring intently at the wild growth of life. At least she didn’t have to pretend to be interested in the aggressive sprawl of lush flora that covered the surface of Havarl. 

It was her favorite planet and she looked forward to any chance to return. She fantasied about disappearing into the forest and spending hours with only the sounds of nature to keep her company. Beside her, Jaal cleared his throat, and shifted, his shoulder knocking into hers. 

“I wanted to thank you for trusting me,” he finally said.

Ryder shrugged, hoping she looked nonchalant. “You know the Roekaar best.” Good, she thought, she only sounded a tad bitter.

“You are… upset with me?”

“What? No, that’s - no, I’m - no.” Ryder laughed, one short bark, to prove her point. “You do you… er, whatever.” She gripped the rails hard enough to make her gloves creak. 

Jaal looked unconvinced but said nothing, his small eyes narrowed as they appraised her neutral expression.

“Ah, not buying it.” She wilted under his scrutiny and bounced in place, thinking for a brief moment that it might be best to run for the Tempest. There were a thousand things she could yell after her that would explain her sudden departure. Colonist to save, people to feed, all that. “Was it the laugh? Too casual?”

“Will you tell me what is bothering you?” he asked, taking a step closer. 

Ryder chewed on her lower lip and refused to make eye contact. Maybe, she reasoned, if she was silent forever and never spoke again, she couldn’t embarrass herself any further. Silence is golden! Even if the silence was unbearable and made her skin itch. 

“Ryder…” Jaal prodded, holding her chin in his hand and directing her gaze to him. 

“You were shot!” she finally exploded, jerking her head away. “You - ” she thought of a lot of words that would sum up her feelings succinctly - idiot, fool, jerk, asshole, idiot - before finally deciding on a lecture. “You were being reckless, you asked me to trust you in doing something dangerous! That was a stupid stunt. I… I was really worried. UGH!” 

Ryder felt her death mask wilt and her cheeks flooded with heat. Embarrassed by the clunky progression of events leading up to her outburst, she pressed her hands to her face as if she could hide. “Let’s just forget about this,” she mumbled, her words slurred around her cheeks. 

There was a moment of silence in which Ryder counted every single one of her heartbeats. She almost thought that he had turned away from her, heading back to the Tempest or even back to his family. Could she blame him after she had just called him stupid? 

Finally, she felt Jaal pulling at her hands and let him draw them into his. He was trying to stop it, but she knew he was laughing, the slow rumble building up until it rolled from him, thick as velvet. That laugh always made her stomach drop and it had the same effect even now, her heart fluttering in in her chest for an altogether different reason. 

“I’m sorry that I made you worry,” he said, leading her towards him with a gentle pull of her hands. “It will heal. All scars do.”

Ryder snorted but didn’t fight him, letting herself be guided into filling the gap between their bodies. “Actually scars don’t heal, that’s why it’s a scar and not, say, a cut.”

“Ah, I see.” He ran his hand up her arm, following the curve of her shoulder and neck, letting his fingers twist in her hair. “Are you upset that I won’t be as good looking?”

She could feel her embarrassment and frustration slowly fading, pulled from her at the junctions where he was pressed against her. “Everyone knows that humans love facial scars.” 

“I won’t put you in that position again,” he murmured, his fingers gently closing around strands of hair. Ryder let her eyes flutter close, her head pulled back with a tug that sent a tremor through her body.

“Pathfinder,” SAM interrupted, “you have a new e-mail.” 

“SAM,” she groaned.

Jaal blinked and paused, a hitch catching his response in his throat.

“Oh, Jaal!” Despite herself, Ryder laughed, the confusion mingling with distress displayed so clearly on Jaal’s face. “You should see your face right now! SAM just said something to me, I wasn’t - “

She paused, suddenly aware of where they were standing. “Wait, SAM, did you just…?”

“You have a new e-mail,” was all the voice said in her head, but she wondered if she heard a hint of something like humor in the response? 

Whatever had come over them was fading and it was Jaal who pulled away, his hands dropping limply by his side. He cast a few quick glances around the landing pad, whether to make sure no one was watching them or to center himself, Ryder didn’t know.

“We should get back,” she said weakly, feeling both overwhelmed at what had almost just happened and regretfully that it had only _almost_ just happened.

Jaal smiled, a slow, mischievous smile that made Ryder’s head swim. “I want to say a few words to my family,” he provided as an excuse as he walked away.   

“I have an e-mail that I should check,” she called after him.   

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to the awkward, yet lovable, flirting of a human in major violation of First Contact Protocol.

Ryder bounced nervously, shifting her weight between hips, trying to calm herself down by overworking her system. There was a deep desperation in her for a quick fix of adrenaline. She thought best when physically exerted, though she wondered if that was only true because often times her life was in danger. Did she really think best when her life was threatened? That was a sobering thought. 

She found herself playing with the zipper of her jacket, dragging it up and down the teeth so quickly and so many times she could burn something with the friction heated metal. Too late, she cursed Peebee for convincing her to dress more casually. She was _too_ casual. Everyone was going to see how out of place she looked, tiny and pale when removed from her suit. 

As the shuttle began to slow for landing, she noticed Jaal right away, his _Rofjinn_ whipping wildly around his shoulders from the wind created by the shuttle’s descent. She took a deep breath and turned away from the window.

“No big deal,” she said aloud to herself, thinking of the pep talk Peebee had given her. “You just say ‘hi Jaal’s mom’ and compliment something nearby, like a plant.”

“Jaal has mentioned on multiple occasions that the angora hug each other as a greeting,” SAM reminded her.

“What?” Ryder felt a prickle of panic numb her arms as if they were protesting doing any such thing. “Do you think I should hug his mom? SAM? SAM!” 

The shuttle door banged open, cutting off further pleas from her, and then there was Jaal reaching through to pull her to the ground. She let herself fall into his arms, her hands finding a natural hold of his shoulders as his hands gripped her hips. By the time her feet were back on Havarl, she had forgotten what she had been panicking about and wondered instead why her hips tingled where his hands were pressed into them.

“This way.” Jaal slid his hand up her back, leading her forward with a gentle application of pressure. _Ah,_ she thought, _that’s what the panic was about_. 

She readied herself as the door opened, imagined punching the Archon. She imagined the Archon below her, helpless to - then she was picturing Jaal, a series of rapidly escalating scenarios following. _Wrong train of thought, abort, abort!_

* * *

 

Ryder could have collapsed with relief when Jaal finally showed her through the door to his “little sanctuary.” The din of family behind them, boisterous and warm, the accumulation of half a dozen conversations shared between brothers, sisters, and cousins, came to a sudden halt behind the hiss of the door sliding shut.

“I made a good impression I think? I may have embarrassed myself only a little,” she confided. 

“Yes, I meant to ask… what is this?” He held his hand up, two fingers curled into his palm and his thumb sticking up. “And what is a ‘dude’?”

Ryder bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, but she couldn’t fight the grin. “That is a thumbs up, it means… ‘yes’ or ‘good job!’” 

Jaal examined his hand for a moment before bobbing his head. “I like it.”  He laughed, holding his thumbs up for her approval.

That familiar tingle of warmth spread through her again, the force of it pulling her forward, her hand already stretched out. She had been wanting to run her hands over him since he had pulled her from the shuttle. When he had averted his eyes as his mother spilled his secrets, it took every ounce of control in her not to press her lips to his, to chase his embarrassment away. 

But she did no such thing now either. Instead, she changed her direction and walked across the room, her hands clasped together behind her back.

“It’s a good thing we aren’t in the Milky Way,” she observed conversationally. “There’s no way I would have the nerve to show you _my_ bedroom.” 

Jaal was watching her closely, intently focused on a secret she wasn't sharing. Over the previous weeks, she had noticed how easily he had been at reading her. It was a skill he was rapidly developing. “That was a lot for you,” he observed. 

How foreign it must all seem to him, her own small family and her unexplained anxiety, but his tone held only understanding. 

Words fizzled against her tongue before she could shape them. “I, uh… family is weird.” She reflected on a event over 600 years ago in another galaxy when she had been taken home to meet someone’s mom and family, how intimate a step that had been.  

Realizing how that must sound, she hurried to amend her statement: “Not your family, your family is great! Not weird. I’m weird,” she stumbled around her words, the heat of her embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “I mean just family in general. Is weird.” With a deep breath to mark the end of her tirade, she placed her hands on her hips, winded from the mental gymnastics. 

Despite the incoherency, Jaal seemed to understand what she was trying to say. He made a show of changing the direction of their conversation, settling on the bed and motioning for her to do the same. “Would you like to see something?” he asked, patting a box.

Grateful for his understanding, Ryder did as she was bid. The bed dipped under their shared weight, the two rolling dangerously close together.   
  
“What’s in the box?” she asked to distract herself from the feeling of his thigh pressed against hers. 

“A gift from when I was a child.” He lifted the lid, tilting it so she could see the contents.

“Oh, sweet, nice gun - Jaal! What is that?”

Jaal chortled and cast a shy glance her way. “A pet kaerkyn - Alfit. He died. So I took him apart.”

She tried to think of a way to categorize what was happening. Meeting his mother and family had been more than she had been expecting, the overwhelming intimacy he was sharing with her tasting too much like… something she couldn't think of as real. Did being shown the remains of a pet count as romantic or not? 

“I had a cat named Oedipaws when I was a child,” she whispered.

They stared at each other in hot silence. 

“What is a cat?”  
  
“It’s… mmmm, well nevermind.” Ryder ducked her head and reached for his hand. She allowed him to turn her hand over in his, mesmerized by the unusual way they fit together. “This was really great, thank you.”

When she looked up and caught his gaze, the feeling of belonging and desire she felt beating against her rib cage was reflected back at her. He leaned in, his head dipped low, his hand sliding against her palm to grasp her wrist. 

“Cats are small furry animals that have four legs!” she shouted at him, her body leaning in towards him even as she heard herself attempting to sabotage the moment. 

He pulled back slightly, the ghost of a smile tagging at the corner of his lip. A delicate sliver of teeth peeked between his lips. A hand drifted against her thigh, gliding up past her hips. She heard the slow drawl of her zipper being dragged down and felt her jacket ease away from her sides. 

“You are nervous.” His tone was friendly, but she didn’t have many friends that slid their hands over her stomach, their fingers exploring the way her waist and back gave into pressure. 

“I’m ticklish,” she countered, picking a word she knew he wouldn’t know.

The bait of unknown vocabulary missed the mark. “You are… so… soft,” he marveled as his fingers crept up her stomach, his thumb caressing the curve of her breast. 

She stifled a moan but couldn’t stop the way her body responded and arched into his hand. She willed herself not to be taken in by that slow, particular way he had of speaking. It was often that she found herself hanging onto every word as it dripped from his mouth, and even now she felt an electricity spreading through her, hottest where his fingers curled around her wrist and where his hand cupped her breast. 

“It’s a human thing,” she managed to say, her words breathy, “we’re full of water. Give Cora a good poke next time you see her, I dare you.” 

Ryder felt the air change, the humor she was trying to inject in the situation leeching away under his misty eyed gaze. “You make my heart sing.”

“Whoa, so _that’s_ the poetry.” 

Jaal made a sound deep in his chest and moved his hand from her wrist to her waist, drawing her closer. “I want us to be together.” 

_Yes_ , that is what she had been waiting to hear, that's what she needed. She needed it to be real.

“You could have said that _forever_ ago,” she breathed. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him against her, their lips finally meeting. The tension of their last meeting made her hungry for the taste of him in a way she had never experienced before. Her fingers knotted around the fabric of his _Rofjinn,_ her body pulled close by the strong arm pressed into her back. 

Too soon he tried to pulled away. With a moan of protest she chased after him. He chuckled and returned to her embrace, her lips tingling against the rumble of his laugh. 

Finally, he did manage to pul away, his hands coming up to cup her face. His thumbs traced the curve of her cheek. “Ryder?”

“Mmm?” she asked dreamily, her head still spinning.

He flashed a thumbs up and laughed a deep, belly laugh. “Yes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once I get to the actual ****scene**** (y'all know what I'm talking about), I may be tempted to explore their relationship a little further. ;)


	3. Deleted Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the "deleted scene" between Chapter 1 and 2 where Peebee offers some fashion advice to a jittery Ryder. I ended up cutting it because it made Chapter 2 much too long.

“Puh- _lease_ don’t tell me that’s what you’re wearing?” Peebee glowered over her shoulder to illustrate her distaste with a scrunch of her nose. 

She had flung herself on the bed moments before Ryder was preparing to leave, settling on her stomach with her legs in the air, a screwdriver in one hand and a new arm for POC in the other. Somehow, Ryder’s quarters had become part of her workshop. Eventually, Ryder mused, every inch of the ship would be an extension of Peebee’s workshop. 

Ryder knew she was being baited, could tell from the quirk of Peebee’s brow and the purse of her lips that hinted she was only barely holding back her opinion, but Ryder was too worked up not to bite: “What are you talking about?”

“You look like you’re going to war.” Peebee didn’t look over again as she spoke, her face now creased in concentration as she poked around the tentacle laid in front of her. She must have hit a sweet spot because the lower half flexed and she responded with a delighted squeal.  

Ryder looked down at her armored suit, the same thing she always wore when heading planet side. Sure, it was a little scratched and dinged up, but that just meant she was alive.

“Do you mean I should… buff it?” She twisted to look over her legs and down her back. “Gil, do we have a way of, uh, making armor shiny?” she added through the intercom. 

“Havarl is a habitable planet with a perfectly safe environment, you don’t need to suit up just to -”

“What was that, Pathfinder?” Gil interrupted, his disembodied voice floated down from the speakers above the bed.

“Nevermind, Gil!” Peebee snapped. She glared at the comm system, daring it to raise a crackle in protest, her screwdriver raised menacingly. 

If she didn't wear this, she didn't have a lot of options. Did she even own a dress, she wondered. Would a dress be too much? She chewed on her lip and pressed her hands into her face, her frustration turning into mild anxiety. This was exactly the kind of thing she did not want to have to worry about.

She steered the conversation back to safe territory, making a case for why she needed to protect her organs: “There is a lot that is not _perfectly_ _safe_ about Havarl. Those bugs, for one,” she ticked the list off her fingers, “and those _actual_ dinosaurs - ” 

“If I may, Pathfinder,” SAM broke in, “the shuttle will be taking you directly to Jaal’s family home. The chances of encountering any dinosaurs between the Tempest and the shuttle is unlikely.”

“Whoa!” Peebee tittered and rolled to a sitting position, the tentacle slithering across the sheets forgotten. “Did SAM just make a joke?”

“Yeah,” Ryder confirmed, glaring at the orb that took up a sizable portion of her desk. “He’s been doing that a lot lately.”

She had yet to fully forgive him for the email incident a few days ago. When she had slunk back into her quarters after departing Havarl, the only email she had was from SAM, who was apologizing for misinforming her about there being an email in the first place.

When Peebee fired off a round of questions directed at SAM meant to test the parameters of his humor, Ryder saw her chance to escape. Slowly, steadily, she began to slink towards the door, her hand sliding on the wall behind her back to mark her pace while she kept her eyes on Peebee. SAM was telling a joke now, a bad one, but Peebee was laughing hysterically.  

If only she had been so lucky to make her escape then, but Peebee whirled towards her mid laugh, caught in the crosshairs again. Peebee leveled Ryder with a withering glare and pointed at her with POC’s arm, which wiggled with gangly fluidity. 

Ryder recoiled and raised her arms to shield her face. “Ugh, Peebee, that’s creepy.”

“Change into something more comfortable.” When she noticed Ryder roll her eyes, mouth open to disagree, she pressed on, “Ryder, please, you’ll thank me. Do you really want to meet Jaal’s mom dressed like a solider, a gun on each hip, murder in your eyes, mayhem - “

“That’s enough, I get the point.” With a wave of her hand, Ryder put an end to whatever roll she was working herself up for. “This is just, like, a business meeting thing, it’s not a ‘thing’-thing.” Heavy use of air quotes illustrated what she meant.

Peebee opened her mouth to argue, a look of outraged confusion pulling at her features. One look at Ryder’s wide, shinning eyes and hopeless smile made her change her mind. “Good luck with the _business meeting_ , then. But, hey, put some real pants on?”


End file.
